Powerless
by Hollypop2018
Summary: Young Princess Rosalie, daughter of Jane and Thor, discovers a dark sorcerer imprisoned on the outskirts of Asgard and begins visiting him in secret. Little does she know that the man is Loki, her father's estranged brother. Loki begins to care for the child and they grow rather attached. Meanwhile, a sinister being seeks revenge on Loki, threatening to destroy all he treasures AU
1. Chapter 1: Bury My Ghost

_Author's Note: A while ago, a story circulated in the Thor fanfiction archive that has been since taken down. I do not rightly recall the plot, but I remember fragments of a beautiful story that captured my heart. This is my take on a story that is not completely my own. I do not own the preliminary premise of the story, nor do I own the characters from Marvel. The details and writing, however, are my own._

 _... Bury My Ghost..._

His dark hair remained matted against his sickly pale face, stuck in the deep cuts along his nose and cheekbones. Every time he breathed, a sharp discomfort made him cringe. Every single one of his ribs were cracked, if not broken. Punishment in response to his defiance made sure to that. Every remark, retort and sneer he made resulted in either a beating, a broken limb, or, his personal favorite, days without food or water. In those days, he was left in complete solitude.

Shackles kept him in place, so heavy that any remaining strength he had wasn't enough to so much as get them to budge. He was bound to the floor, never to stand, never to move. Motionless and confined. Subjugated to the highest extent.

The putrid stench of blood, vomit and bile had long since faded to nothing. The lacerations along his back never ceased to ooze freely of crimson. He had lost track of how long it'd been since he bathed. The dirt and grime accumulated on his skin personified how he felt.

Dirty. Vile. _Powerless_.

They wanted to break him. They wanted to see him suffer. They wanted him to pay for all the suffering he'd caused. Quite frankly, he didn't blame them. After all, he had once been a monster. Once caused devastation and destruction to anyone that stood in his path. But that was then...

His screaming had long since passed. Now, with the never ending inflictions and pure agony that were thrust upon him, he never made a sound. He never flinched nor shied away from the pain. In fact, he welcomed it. It assured him that he was indeed alive.

If it weren't for the possibility of ever seeing her again, he would rather be dead. If he did not care so much to keep her safe and alive, he would not be here.

Despite all the wretched deeds his captors put him through, his spirit would never be broken. At least not entirely. Every time he threatened to succumb to darkness, and every time pain consumed him to the point where he knew he couldn't take anymore, his mind drifted to her...

Bright, exuberant blue eyes that sparkled with innocence and beauty. Long, curled golden brown locks that bounced and swayed with every movement she made. The way her mouth pursed and her eyebrows furrowed when she thought pensively. The way she pestered him with questions pertaining to magic. How she genuinely enjoyed his company, and was always willing to do anything to see him smile. Her voice, always lacquered with concern for his well being. Her smile, always so warm that it touched his soul. This was what he remembered of the princess.

Of course, that had been years ago. She was now grown.

It didn't matter what he remembered of young Princess Rosalie. He would never see her again. She would never again be burdened with the repercussions of befriending him.

"It's better this way," he tried to convince himself as a single tear slid down his cheek, the first he'd shed in months.

 _She's safe. Rose is safe. That's all that matters._

...

 _Years prior..._

"Father, must you be so slow?" Young princess Rosalie called over her shoulder as her horse galloped ahead with such power and speed. Her long, sun kissed brown locks billowed freely behind her, wild and untamed in the wind. As she encouraged her horse to press ahead, Thor chuckled heartily at his young daughter's boisterous confidence, a trait inherited from himself. He indulged his daughter's competitive nature by allowing his stallion to meet her speed, though he was adamant not to surpass her.

After a few moments, as they drew near the edge of Asgard's limits, Thor pulled back on his stallion, and watched in admiration as Rosalie pressed ahead triumphantly. Realizing that her father lingered behind, she slowed her horse to a steady trot.

"It is as if you aren't even trying," she half complained with a prideful smirk when Thor returned to her side. Yet, Thor was not paying attention to his daughter. His face drew into a tormented, pensive look while he stared out into the distance. The outer limits of Asgard, though beautiful, held a darkness that the reigning King could never dare neglect. This danger constantly threatened to emerge and destroy all he held dear.

"Father?" Rosalie questioned while following the King's gaze onto the horizon.

The sound of his daughter's voice singing sweetly in his ears brought Thor out of his sullen thoughts before they threatened to consume him. With an apologetic grin that did not quite touch his eyes, he faced his daughter's inquisitive stare.

"I'm sorry, Rosalie," he apologized, but for what, the young child was not quite certain. "We must return home now. Your mother will be waiting for us."

With some confusion, Rosalie trailed her father as he began taking the path from whence they came. Rosalie was familiar with her father's avoidance of the extravagant realm's limits. Most of Asgard was surrounded by raging waters. However, one stretch of land, where Rosalie and her father found themselves now, exceeded the city. None knew what lay beyond Asgard on this vast expanse of land. It was a mystery that no one wanted to explore. Yet, Rosalie remained curious when her father constantly redirected them away from the stretch of uncharted land. What could possibly warrant such an evasive reaction?

"Father, why don't we ever go beyond the limits of the city?"

Thor stiffened at the question, but forced himself to school his features and answer his daughter. "It's dangerous," he relented with a frown.

Rosalie's eyes narrowed. No one had ever claimed the territory to be _dangerous._

 _"_ What's out there _?"_ she asked with unwanted fear straining her voice. Rosalie spared a glance behind her at the vast, _dangerous_ land. It seemed harmless, even beautiful. How could something so majestic be a threat?

Thor sensed the alarm in his daughter's tone, and instantly regretted frightening the young Princess with such a terse response. While his heart melted at the fear evident in Rosalie's eyes, Thor refused to lessen the peril of the land. The reigning King had vowed to himself some time ago that when the time came, when Rosalie finally asked why the kingdom avoided the outer limits of Asgard, he would tell her. That time had come, but Thor still had a hard time finding the right words to say.

"It is said that an evil sorcerer is kept prisoner on that land." Thor allowed this admission to settle before continuing. "The sorcerer is very alluring, manipulative, and powerful. Many believe that if they were to set foot on the land, the sorcerer would be able to persuade them into freeing him."

"Really?" Rose questioned in awe. She did not seem to be frightened, but rather intrigued. "How?"

"With magic, of course," Thor said with a pained grimace. He did not see the way his daughter swallowed deeply, her expression twisted into a look of shame. Rosalie did not rightly understand Asgard's disapproval of magic. To her, magic was a mystery to be discovered, or a puzzle to solve. She wished that others had the same regard for magic as her late Grandmother, Frigga. The former Queen's heart had been pure, and even she revered the capabilities of magic. When Thor caught Rosalie's brooding eyes, he misinterpreted her distress as fear. He hoped that his answer would put an end to the curiosity, but Rosalie was too inquisitive to let the discussion rest.

"Why is he locked away?" she pressed frantically, attempting to ignore the discomfort weighing on her heart. "What did the sorcerer do?"

Thor frowned at Rosalie's enthusiastic response, but vaguely answered the girl's questions. "It's tough to say, darling. I imagine he did many terrible things."

"Such as...?" Rosalie prodded when her father did not continue.

Thor debated revealing details that hinted at the unspeakable truth all of Asgard's history intentionally dismissed. He quickly decided against it, and instead answered the young Princess with his own question.

"What is it that villains desire above all else in the world?"

Rosalie's mouth pressed into a thin line as she considered the question. " _Respect_?" she guessed with a small shrug.

" _Power_ ," Thor corrected, though he was stunned by his daughter's reply. It revealed the wisdom beyond her years. This intelligence came from her mother, no doubt. He certainly could not take credit for her observational reasoning. "But respect is not far off," he amended, wanting to validate Rosalie's perceptive thoughts.

His praise brought a small grin to Rosalie's lips. Reminded again of the conversation at hand, the young Princess looked to Thor expectantly. "The sorcerer tried to take over Asgard?"

"More than once," Thor sighed gravely.

Rosalie narrowed her piercing blue eyes at her father, her intuition identifying a withholding of information. "Have you ever met this sorcerer?"

"No." Thor found that lying was easier than he thought. His expression remained neutral as he watched his daughter process the new information he had given her. Much to his dismay, she did not seem frightened.

"Then how do you know that the stories are true?" she persisted with a pleading look in her eyes.

Thor pulled on his stallion's reigns to bring himself to a complete stop. Rosalie quickly did the same, her interest peaking. Thor had Rosalie's undivided attention. Though his expression was soft and gentle, his intent was strong and fervent. "Legends do not evolve from nothing, Rosalie. Not all legends are accurate, but all legends evolve from truth." He hoped that this was enough to reinforce the reality of the sorcerer's existence. When his daughter's expression settled in solemn understanding, Thor concluded that the message rendered clear. Rosalie did not ask anymore questions regarding the mysterious sorcerer. While the young princess found other things to entertain her mind, Thor could not draw his thoughts away from the man most of the kingdom had long forgotten.

Thor had not forgotten. He couldn't. The day he paid no heed to the ominous _sorcerer_ was the day he endangered his family. The deranged man _had_ to stay in captivity. The existence of peace within the entire realm depended on this. Thor smiled tenderly at his daughter as she invited him in a race home. He accepted her challenge, but was so consumed in his thoughts that he missed the way the young princess shot a mischievous smirk at the forbidden land.

She would not let the story of the sorcerer go for some time.


	2. Chapter 2: Start My Glory Days

_... Start My Glory Days..._

Rosalie doodled on a sheet of parchment, listening half-heartedly to her mother as she attempted to teach her daughter the basics of astrophysics. Some time ago, Jane Foster insisted that her daughter learned the science behind some of Asgard's remarkable luxuries. Jane often contended that the magical practices of the Asgardian medical facilities were nothing more than advanced technologies. After listening to a few lectures, Rosalie had discovered that she was right. Now they had moved on to topics including the physics of the Bifrost, and the use of wormholes. Jane often explained the Midgardian theories regarding many of Asgard's advancements. The more her mother spoke of the relationship between Midgardian science and Asgardian magic, the more easily Rosalie came to a startling conclusion.

Magic was just science that most did not understand.

Her lessons with her mother validated her beliefs in the usefulness of magic. She wished that all members of Asgardian society understood the things her mother did. Medical practices and forms of magic beneficial to society were readily accepted in Asgard. However, magic in combat, or deceiving illusions, were scorned. Personally wielding magic was unthinkable, an almost forbidden practice. Why, Rosalie did not have the slightest idea.

Normally, Rosalie would take great pleasure in these educational sessions with her mother, but today, she found herself distracted by the mystifying legend of the sorcerer. Assuming that he existed, the alleged sorcerer had once been consumed by the power of magic. Rosalie reckoned that the sorcerer truly understood the lure of necromancy. Magical enchantments compelled those that mastered its dominion into relying on their power for every meaningless and monumental task. Unbeknownst to her family, Rosalie understood this temptation well...

"Rosalie? Are you even listening?"

The young princess jolted, her train of thought momentarily squandered. The reigning queen's eyes were trained upon her inquisitive daughter. Rosalie flashed an apologetic frown at her mother, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, mother," she sighed, smudging ink as she dropped her quill upon the parchment.

"What troubles you, darling?" Jane asked, a concerned look creasing her forehead. She was slightly surprised by her daughter's lack of enthusiasm. Typically, Rosalie listened to her mother's lessons with rapt attention. Today, she appeared to be distracted.

Rosalie hesitated, avoiding her mother's eyes until she gathered her thoughts. "Father told me a story while we were riding yesterday," she admitted, slowly piecing together her words. "I asked why we never rode beyond the city's limits." A foreboding feeling washed over Jane as she quickly concluded where the conversation was heading.

"What do you know of the evil sorcerer?" Rosalie questioned softly.

Jane sighed and set aside the few books and diagrams she had been using as visuals. "What did your father tell you?" she asked instead of answering.

Rosalie visibly relaxed, relieved that her mother was willing to have this discussion with her. "He told me that the sorcerer was dangerous and powerful," she pursed her lips with a thoughtful expression. "He said that the sorcerer has been imprisoned for some time, and that everyone is afraid to look for him..." Rosalie tried to recall any further information that her father had disclosed, but came up with nothing.

"Is that all..?"

"I _think_ so," Rosalie's mouth pressed into a thin line, as she probed her memory. "He really did not want to talk about it," she admitted feebly.

This did not surprise Jane in the slightest. She imagined it took a great deal of strength for her husband to even speak of his estranged brother. It had been years since he had spoken a word to Jane about it. No matter how hard Thor tried to dismiss it, she knew his brother's imprisonment tore at his heart. Jane also was not surprised to learn that Thor had avoided telling Rosalie that the sorcerer was none other than Loki. She doubted that the name would mean anything to her daughter. Ever since his imprisonment, Asgard had intentionally erased the fallen prince's name from history. No one acknowledged his existence, apart from disguising his legacy in a local legend. Jane pushed her thoughts away upon catching her daughter's prying eyes.

"Is there more that he did not tell me?" Rosalie pressed.

"No," Jane sighed, reason ebbing away the guilt that weighed on her heart. She hated lying to Rosalie, but what good could the truth do? No one spoke of the fallen prince. Loki was nothing more than a distant memory, a tarnished one at that. "I wouldn't spend time dwelling on it, darling. Your father thinks too much of that legend. He was just trying to scare you."

"Perhaps," Rosalie frowned, returning her attention to her parchment, not at all convinced.

Jane's lips pressed together as she observed her daughter's reaction. It was clear that she desperately wished to know the full story behind the _sorcerer's_ legacy. While the reigning Queen felt an obligation to tell her the truth, she also knew that Thor would greatly disapprove. The two had agreed to never speak Loki's name in the presence of their daughter. Not only would it bring up treacherous deeds of the past, but it would also expose Rosalie to truths that were better left unsaid. She did not need to be told that a member of her family had a dark heart. That he would like nothing more than to watch Asgard and all its inhabitants burn to the ground.

"How about we skip lessons for today?" Jane suggested, gauging that her daughter would not listen for the remainder of her lecture. Her mind was elsewhere, and so was Jane's.

"Are you sure, mother?" Rosalie questioned merely out of courtesy. Jane sensed that her daughter truly did not wish to continue, though she would if Jane insisted. She and Thor had taught her nothing if not manners.

"Yes, Rosalie," Jane smiled at her daughter, running her fingertips through the young girl's golden brown curls. "You have the rest of the day to yourself. Your father and I will see you at dinner."

With a thankful grin, Rosalie gathered her belongings and left the royal library. Jane watched her go with a loving gaze, though her thoughts lingered with her husband's troubling past. She could not imagine how it must feel to imprison someone she once considered family. Despite all the grievances, despite all he had done, no matter how many times Thor denied it, Loki was his brother.

With a harrowing sigh, Jane collected the various items she had been using to teach her daughter, and departed the library in search of her husband.

Thor was in the throne room when Jane found him. Having just released a demanding council with the nobles and warriors of Asgard, Thor was immensely pleased to see Jane. With the exception of Rosalie, she was the only one that could genuinely lift his spirits. Jane was his saving grace. She had remained by his side through all the hardships. She had even agreed to ruling by his side. Thor knew that this decision had not been an easy one for her. Jane avoided putting herself in positions of outright leadership and power. She preferred assuming roles of discrete influence. Yet, she had willingly supported Thor when he accepted the throne, knowing full well that her role would be just as demanding and trying as her husband's.

While a visit from his wife often entailed feelings of joy and comfort, Thor sensed that something troubled Jane as she approached him. Her eyes were not focused on him, her mouth drawn into a tight line, and she carried books and parchment tightly across her chest. When she reached Thor, she slammed her belongings upon the edge of an ornate table, and sighed deeply through her nose.

"You are upset," Thor noted, placing a protective hand on Jane's shoulder in tender comfort.

"No," Jane disagreed, shaking her head slightly, still refusing to meet Thor's gaze. "Upset is not the right word. Confused...maybe even perplexed, but not upset."

This admission drew the reigning king's interest. "You have my attention," he smirked lovingly at his wife. Past experience told him that once baited, Jane would stop at nothing to make Thor consider her point of view. It was a quality Thor found quite endearing. Even though intelligence drove her actions, Jane was stubborn and impulsive. Typically, he had an idea of what Jane wanted to discuss. However, in this moment, he had not a clue.

"You told Rosalie about Loki," Jane accused, finally meeting Thor's eyes. His blue eyes flickered in a battle of understanding, uncertainty and shame. "I'm not angry, Thor," Jane assured before her husband could speak. "It just proves what I've said all along." When a muddled expression crossed Thor's face, Jane lifted her hand to gently cup his face in her palm. "You care," she stated simply and delicately.

Thor found himself unable to deny it. In a way, he _did_ care. Not a day passed that Thor did not dwell on what could have been, what he could have done differently to prevent Loki from traveling down a path of darkness and decay.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Jane continued when Thor did not speak. "You grew up with him. You share memories with him. Despite it all, he's still your brother."

"And it is because he is my brother that I can never allow him to escape," Thor concluded solemnly. He placed his hand over Jane's that still rested gently upon his cheek. "He harbors so much anger and resentment that he would destroy all I hold dear."

"How do you know that for sure, Thor?" Jane questioned, searching her husband's eyes for signs of sympathy. "You have not spoken to him in years. How can you be so certain?"

"I'm not," Thor admitted in an uncharacteristically feeble voice. "But it is not a risk I am willing to take. If something were to ever happen to you or Rosalie..." Thor could not even finish the thought.

"Hey," Jane spoke in a comforting and convincing tone that she knew would keep Thor's thoughts from turning dismal. "We're not going anywhere. You won't ever lose us."

Thor could not find the right words to respond, so he instead brought Jane forward in a secure embrace. Jane clasped her arms around Thor's torso, and settled her head against his chest.

"I did not tell her everything, Jane," Thor clarified in a strained voice.

"I know. You couldn't," Jane answered in understanding. "Rosalie is such an inquisitive child. She would not be able to let something like that go. It's for the best."

Thor allowed this mantra to overtake him. _It's for the best._ As much as he wanted to agree with this statement, he could not openly approve. Loki was far beyond saving, but what did that say of those the man had spent his early years with? In Thor's eyes, he had failed just as well as Loki. Thor had not been there for his brother when he needed him the most. What transpired in later years had only been a result of centuries of neglect and mistreatment. What made Thor believe that it could have ended any differently?

"I love you, Jane," Thor whispered so affectionately, trying in vain to suppress all feelings of guilt and affliction, though truly meaning what he said.

Pulling back slightly from her husband's embrace, Jane tilted her head up to flash him a cheeky grin.

"I know."

... 

Rosalie lay in her bed, staring intently at the ceiling above her. It had been an hour since her mother and father had tucked her in to bed. She still had an hour at her disposal before she could execute her plan.

 _She was determined to find the sorcerer._

Ever since her father had told her of the mysterious man's existence, the legend was all she could think about. She had always felt drawn to the outer limits of Asgard. For the longest time, Rosalie had not a clue why she was so intrigued by this forbidden land. Now she knew. She was certain that this was the reason. An evil sorcerer remained imprisoned in an undisclosed area of the land. It was her destiny to locate this sorcerer. It had to be. No other explanation clarified her fascination with Asgard's outer limits. From a young age, she remembered questioning why the land was barren. How could a beautiful stretch of land remain neglected? Rosalie had never voiced her concerns. She had accepted the land's established vacancy as normal. Now, with this new revelation, she understood its significance.

The land housed a dangerous criminal.

Yet, despite this, Rosalie did not fear exceeding the city's limits. The sorcerer's legend did not lessen the appeal of the land. In fact, she found the land all the more captivating. How dangerous could the sorcerer truly be if he had yet to escape his prison?

While Rosalie waited for the time to come, she reviewed her plan over and over until she knew it by heart. Sneaking out of the palace was the easiest part of her plan. Rosalie knew every corridor, garden and hall that would lead her outside undetected. In the event of an unexpected obstacle, Rosalie would utilize a strength no one knew she possessed.

 _Magic_. 

Unbeknownst to her parents, Rosalie was magically gifted. She could still recall the first moment she had used magic. She had been scouring the royal library, as she often did, and could not reach a particular book. After wasting minutes trying to reach for it, she had crossed her arms and glared. Her intense desire to have the book in her hands had ignited a spark within her. Suddenly, the book had appeared in her hands. At first, the event terrified her. Yet, after a few hours, her curiosity extinguished any fear that remained. After sifting through multiple volumes of text forbidden to her, Rosalie concluded that she had tapped into a powerful source of magic. This magic, she soon learned, responded to her will. All she had to do was concentrate and undoubtedly believe that her desires would come to fruition. Her magic responded well to her emotions, especially when she was angry or desperate. According to her studies, this was a rare gift. Most that practiced magic spent years mastering even the smallest of tasks. To Rosalie, magic came naturally. The more vigorous enchantments took some time to grasp. Cloaking spells had taken Rosalie a full year to perform effectively. She still had yet to master teleportation. However, she figured that she had time on her side. Eventually, she would be able to perform any spell she desired.

As far as sneaking out of the palace was concerned, Rosalie would use a simple cloaking enchantment to shield her from sight. In the outside chance that her parents would come check on her, she also planned to create an illusion that would deceive others into believing that she remained sleeping in her bed. Once out of the palace, Rosalie would simply tread through the city until she reached Asgard's limits. She had debated bringing along a horse, but quickly concluded that it would attract too much attention, and perhaps become a liability. She instead would make the endeavor a three to four hour adventure. She imagined she would be exhausted come sunrise, but excitement of potentially locating the mysterious sorcerer proved more persistent than her concerns over lack of sleep.

When the time came, Rosalie executed her plan flawlessly. She commended herself on how believable the guise of her sleeping form appeared, and did not have a problem sweeping out of the palace. Every time Rosalie approached a guard or a servant, she merely hugged her cloak closer to her body, and strengthened her invisibility enchantment by focusing intensely on the idea of being inconspicuous and unstoppable. She had discovered early on that when using magic, it was important to focus on positive reinforcements versus focus on the negative possibilities. If she were to think only of staying invisible and harp on the thought of not getting caught, her enchantment would have immediately disappeared. Instead, she had developed a group of cue words to stop her thoughts from turning negative in the event of an emergency. _Invincible, free, unstoppable, powerful, hidden, inconspicuous..._

These were a few of the many cue words Rosalie referenced to in times of magical endeavors.

As expected, Rosalie made it to the inner city without conflict. Once out of the palace, however, she had to work harder to stay hidden. She stuck close to the shadows and abandoned alleyways, making sure to avoid pubs and gatherings of the nightlife. It took an entire hour for Rosalie to navigate her way to the outer limits of Asgard. When she arrived at the secluded land where the evil sorcerer supposedly dwelled, Rosalie was taken aback by the majesty of the land. Under the light of the stars, the vast expanse of land was hypnotically beautiful. Imagining that the land had lured her there like the song of a siren, Rosalie set out to locate the sorcerer's holding place.

It occurred to her after a few minutes of idly wandering that she didn't exactly know what she was looking for. A building? A cell? A cave? Surely it wasn't that simple. With a deep sigh, Rosalie decided that she would have better luck searching the rockier areas of the land versus scouring the plains. She took to the west, searching a promising stretch of rocky terrain for any sign of a holding cell. As she treaded through the jagged, sharp rocks that towered well above her head, an important thought struck her. What was she going to do if she found the sorcerer? Would she cower in the shadows just to get a glimpse of him? Or would she act boldly and confront him? She had not really considered what her intention was when embarking on this endeavor. It was undoubtedly an impulsive adventure.

"What _am_ I doing?" Rosalie paused in her roaming, leaning against a wall of sandy rock.

 _Why is this so important to me?_ she pondered silently. _Why do I care so much to find a man that my father fears?_

Rosalie wrapped her cape close around her body as a chilling breeze swept over her. It only took her a few more moments to be reminded of the true reason she wished to find the sorcerer. Like herself, the sorcerer possessed magic. Rosalie had no one that she could discuss her abilities with. Though she was well aware that the sorcerer wielded dark magic, Rosalie still felt that he could pass along great knowledge. Whether or not he would be willing was another matter entirely.

With a soft sigh, Rosalie resumed her search. She concocted ways that the sorcerer might be concealed, designed to only be discovered by the keenest of minds. As she pondered the possibilities, she almost tripped over a deep hole directly in the middle of the path she took. Upon further examination, she saw that the hole in the ground wasn't a hole at all. It was an intricate impression of... Horns? Antlers?

Was it really that obvious? That simple?

With a determined scowl, Rosalie kneeled beside the carved impression, lightly running her fingers over edges. The carving was about the size of her palm. Could it be a lock that required a specific key? Was it triggered by magic? Rosalie instantly shook the thought away. In a realm that discouraged the use of magic, she doubted that entry into the sorcerer's prison would require wielding the abilities.

Yet, perhaps that was the point.

Narrowing her gaze on the peculiar horned impression, Rosalie channeled her magic and concentrated solely on opening the entry to a chamber she believed this lock concealed. She did not have a key, but she used her magic to forge one. Her magic probed at the edges of the impression, molding to fit the carving. She fiddled with the lock, turning it clockwise and counterclockwise until she felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. Just beyond the impression, the ground collapsed, revealing a descending set of stone stairs. She was not exactly certain which combination of turns had permitted the staircase to be revealed, but for the moment she felt too thrilled and accomplished to consider it for very long. With little thought, ignoring all the warnings that crossed her mind, Rosalie practically leap down the staircase, eager to confront the ominous entity that resided within the chamber's confines. She only felt concerns tug at her heart when the opening sealed rather abruptly behind her. Rosalie was submerged in darkness.

The young princess refused to move until her eyes adjusted to the dark. Her heart fluttered faster than a hummingbird's. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Though Rosalie felt rather anxious, she could not deny the excitement that coursed through her veins. Little by little, her vision cleared, and she was able to see a very faint light illuminating from deep within the expansive corridor. Rosalie carefully crept towards this faintly lit room in the distance. As her eyes traced the walls, an important thought occurred to her. If the alleged sorcerer really did reside in this underground channel, was there anyone or anything guarding him? As Rosalie continued onward, she sent out a series of probing waves from her palms, searching for signs of life in a process very similar to echolocation. She waited patiently for the surveillance encoded magic to return to her.

There was only one sign of life. Rosalie sensed a single soul no more than a hundred yards away from where she stood.

Rosalie felt herself pick up speed as she set about closing the gap between herself and the stranger she believed to be the evil sorcerer. She knew she should have been nervous, terrified even. Yet, Rosalie could do nothing to lessen the excitement that coursed violently through her small body. She was shaking, barely containing her apprehension. If the young princess had truly located the alleged sorcerer, Rosalie would regard this as her highest achievement. Mastery of spells did not hold a candle to this. Nothing could ever compare to this forbidden endeavor. _Forbidden, indeed_. Rosalie almost chuckled at the thought. If her parents knew where she was... the consequences would be disastrous. But there was no turning back now. She had reached the entrance.

Making sure that her cloaking enchantment still concealed her from sight, Rosalie took a tentative step into the light of the dimly lit chamber. What met her eyes was not expected.

On the far side of the room, there was a magic encoded cell with fiery veins of gold pulsing through the transparent walls. Even from her position, she could hear and even feel a low hum of energy that made the room appear as if it was alive. Though she knew very little about protective spells, Rosalie sensed that those who attempted to touch the cage's walls would be hurt quite grievously. Though this barrier intrigued her, it was not even remotely as captivating as the man locked within.

He was beautiful. Despite years of imprisonment, the man's pale skin illuminated like alabaster. Sharp cheekbones and a defined jaw complemented his thin lips. His hair was as black as a raven's, and fell slightly past his shoulders. Yet, Rosalie was mesmerized by the color of the sorcerer's eyes. At first glance, they appeared to shine an emerald green. As she approached the cell cautiously, the source of light shifted upon his eyes to reflect a deep blue green color. At the present moment, the man's eyes were trained on a weathered book as he lounged upon the cell's floor rather contentedly. The young princess was relieved to see the man in relatively good spirits, though she could not determine why she felt this way.

The closer Rosalie edged towards the magical cell, the easier it became to distinguish the fine details of the sorcerer's features. The faintest shadows of dark circles lingered beneath his eyes. Thin frown lines creased around his mouth. From a distance, his skin appeared radiant. At a closer look, it appeared more sallow and dull. Despite this, Rosalie found herself thinking that he wore these imperfections well. It all the more added to the man's mystery.

Rosalie now stood a few feet shy of the magical barrier. She studied the man through the gold veining of the cell. Though she had not the slightest idea what to do next, the young princess could not tear her gaze from the man. While trying to keep her breathing steady and quiet, Rosalie pondered her options in silence.

Though young Rosalie had never doubted her abilities, she could not believe that she had accomplished such a feat, especially on her first attempt. It was almost as if she was destined to meet this man. Rosalie did not rightly understand the concept of fate, but she felt in her heart that it was responsible for this moment. Despite this, she did not rightly know how to approach speaking to an evil sorcerer. Should she make her presence known? Or should she continue to observe him? The other less appealing alternative was to simply leave. Before Rosalie could even begin to select a course of action, something quite unexpected happened.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you?" The sorcerer questioned, not even diverting his gaze from the book he held. "Curiosity is a dangerous foe."


	3. Chapter 3: Infiltrate My Heart

.. _Infiltrate My Heart_...

 _"Hasn't anyone ever told you? Curiosity is a dangerous foe."_

Rosalie froze at the prisoner's voice. It was deep, elegant, poised and alluring, a sound so unlike what she expected to escape his lips. For the briefest of moments, Rosalie thought the man mad. Surely he could not sense her. Was he speaking to himself? Or perhaps he was reading aloud. As if he could hear the young girl's thoughts, the sorcerer spoke again. This time there was no denying that he addressed her.

"I must say," he began with a short, humorless chuckle. "I'm impressed. Unlike many before, you are the first to locate this prison." He tore his gaze from the book at his lap, scanning the room beyond his cell. When his eyes settled on the exact location in which Rosalie stood, she felt unnerved. For the briefest of moments, Rosalie considered fleeing. However, the young princess had her father's pride, and her stubbornness refused to let her leave.

With a sigh of resignation, Rosalie lifted the cloaking spell concealing her from visible sight. "How do you know that others have come looking for you if you can't leave this cell?" she asked brazenly, meeting the sorcerer's stare fearlessly.

If the sorcerer was surprised by the appearance of a young girl, he didn't show it. With a frown, he regarded the girl curiously. "My magic senses those searching," he explained with an absence of pause, hiding his confusion well. "I am aware of the presence of others above ground."

Rosalie considered this, then frowned as a thought occurred to her. "Isn't your magic bound?" she questioned skeptically.

The sorcerer breathed in deeply through his nose, and slammed his book shut, aroused in a bitter rage at the reminder of his restricted abilities. Of course, he could still perform spells and illusions within the confines of his cell, but none of any use. The cell he found himself in saw to it that his magic could not reach outside its barrier in any capacity. Though, in what appeared to be a mistake on his captor's part, his magic could still sense the presence of others. Especially those with magical abilities of their own. "No one can fully suppress the power I wield," the sorcerer growled lowly beneath his breath, his narrowed gaze trained dangerously on the young girl.

Rosalie almost shied away from his intense stare, but then reminded herself that, regardless of his claims, this man could not harm her. She gave the man a hard look, meeting his hypnotic green eyes with a matching ferocity. The sorcerer's thick brows drew together as he gauged the young girl's reaction to him. She appeared to be challenging him. If he didn't know any better, it looked as though the girl _wanted_ him to use his powers. After a weighted silence, the sorcerer sighed irritably, breaking his stare. "Though I am limited to an extent," he amended beneath his breath. The child smirked in satisfaction at this admission, a grin that the sorcerer supposed most would find endearing.

As Rosalie continued to study the man, she could tell that the sorcerer's restricted abilities perturbed him greatly. If this man truly was as powerful as her father implied, Rosalie could empathize with the sorcerer. Having a part of him, something that defined him, stripped away so readily... It had to be excruciating. Though, instead of making such a remark aloud, Rosalie found another topic of conversation.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked curiously.

This appeared to humor the sorcerer, for the stoic coldness of his features melted into an amused smirk. Though the expression was made with sarcasm, Rosalie much preferred it to the emptiness of rage that had been stressed tightly across his face mere moments before. "The probing signals plainly gave you away," the sorcerer barked with dry laughter.

Rosalie frowned, slightly offended by the man's evident belittlement of her abilities. "I specifically cast them to be undetectable," she contended.

The sorcerer paused before answering. Despite her poor attempt at stealth, the young girl's knowledge in magic appeared vast and quite beyond her years. This time when he spoke, he did so softly, though the remnants of a smirk still lingered upon his face. "Clearly, you have some work to do," he admonished.

This would discourage most, but not the young princess. "I suppose I do," she agreed with a small shrug that deflected the disappointment of her minor failure. Pursing her lips, she fidgeted shyly before speaking again. "Could you teach me?"

Though the question was spoken innocently and simply, it was rather loaded. The sorcerer was slightly taken aback by the child's inquisitive stare. There was an absence of fear in her eyes. Though a hint of apprehension reflected in her wide, crystal blue eyes, a deeper understanding pooled in her gaze. He recognized this look. It stemmed from a deep desire to harness the power she felt coursing through her veins amidst a cry for mentorship. Despite this recognition, the sorcerer scoffed. "I have much better things to do with my time."

Rosalie's face drew into a scowl at the man's terse response. "What else could you possibly be doing?" she accused.

The sorcerer's eyes narrowed dangerously at the young girl. "I believe that is none of your concern, child," he almost sneered. Rosalie's features betrayed her emotions for the briefest of moments before she replaced her disappointment with a mask of cool indifference. The sorcerer resisted the impulse to apologize. The child's obvious dismay tugged at the man's dark heart. For reasons unbeknownst to him, the sorcerer sighed and amended his response. "And even if I wanted to assist you," he sighed, "There is nothing I can do to help through this cell."

A small, wry grin spread across Rosalie's face as she concluded that this was the man's form of an apology for being so short with her. She considered his answer, recognizing the truth in his words. The sorcerer's cell was encoded with magic that prohibited him from using his powers outside of his prison. From what she knew of apprenticeship, the relationship was forged through intimate instruction. Merely showing an apprentice an incantation did not have the effect of personal training. Rosalie understood the limitations in place, but she would not give up this notion so easily. However, she would let the matter drop for the time being.

"Fine," she agreed with a small sigh. "Then I suppose we will have to find something else to do."

"We?" the sorcerer blinked while suppressing a bark of humorless laughter. "I don't believe I have implied that I want your company."

"You have to get lonely in here," Rosalie contended.

"Loneliness is far more appealing than the company of a child."

This time, Rosalie was not at all offended by the sorcerer's words. She had quickly come to understand that combative banter was the man's preferred language. Though it perplexed her, she chose to ignore it. After a weighted silence, Rosalie shook her head, her golden brown curls framing her face while her eyes reflected a fierce determination. "I don't believe that," she disagreed. "Having someone to talk to is better than nothing. You are imprisoned and isolated, leaving you to your own thoughts. That can be dangerous."

When Rosalie paused, the sorcerer was speechless. Of course leaving a man like himself to his own devices was dangerous. Like so many believed, Loki was a treacherous force to be reckoned with. Evil, vile, deceitful, cunning, devious, bloodthirsty... There was no end to the words used to describe just how much of a terrible person he was. Asgard made sure to that. Loki could only imagine what tales his ventures to the dark side had evolved into. With the realm of Asgard, he was quite certain that his misdeeds were embellished to emphasize just how heartless he was. So yes; a man such as himself was undoubtedly quite dangerous. Yet, the child before him had not intended the word in this way. She had spoken it out of concern. Her intentions were to preserve his mind. Why, Loki did not have the slightest idea. How could a child so young and innocent understand the effects of solitary confinement? Oftentimes, isolation was grueling. After mere weeks of imprisonment, Loki had learned rather quickly that he was his own worst enemy. Incarceration of the body was nothing compared to self-inflicted incarceration of the mind. Loki was often trapped within the confines of his own self-loathing and hatred. At times, it became unbearable. Somehow, the young girl understood this. Perception came with a burdensome detriment. Thinking too deeply incited going insane.

"So it's a good thing there's nothing you can do to stop me from visiting," Rosalie's voice gently drew Loki out of his thoughts. Most children would make this remark smugly, but this child stated it matter of factly. Her voice echoed across the room, and then, despite his better judgment, settled warmly over Loki.

Still slightly astonished by the young girl, the sorcerer regarded her keenly, shifting his weight to draw himself closer to the barrier separating them from one another. He positioned himself so that his eyes were just about level with the exuberant child's stare. "You do know who I am, don't you?" he inquired curiously.

"Of course I do," Rosalie responded as if the answer was obvious. "You are the most feared sorcerer in Asgard."

Loki considered this, fully aware that the girl did not know him by name. Though the young girl did appear to understand the extent of Loki's magical abilities were he not imprisoned in a binding cell, her answer was vague. Disgust filled the fallen prince as he quickly determined why this child, who had specifically sought him out, would not know exactly who he was. Apparently, _Thor_ had done all in his power to erase his presence from Asgardian history. Rather than dwell on this infuriating conclusion, Loki focused on the sweet, innocent child before him.

"Who are you, child?"

"My name is Rosalie," the small child offered, while shyly tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm—" Rosalie paused when she realized that she was about to reveal her identity as the Princess of Asgard. Knowing this was not a wise course of action, Rosalie frowned briefly, and then consciously schooled her features to the best of her ability. Grateful that she had given the notion a second thought, she swallowed and composed herself with a sheepish grin. Only mere moments had passed before she collected her thoughts and spoke the first lie that entered her mind.

"I'm a servant in the House of Odin," she spoke barely above a whisper. After saying this aloud, Rosalie forced herself to meet the sorcerer's gaze, resisting the urge to cower while praying that he did not see through her deceit. If the man believed her words to be untrue, he did not show it. In fact, Loki found himself pitying the girl. It was a rare occurrence that children were placed in positions of servitude within the Asgardian Palace. In his days as a prince, he had been aware of the few children that served in the kitchens and scrubbed the grand corridors of his former residence. Loki had rarely given any of the servants a passing glance. Yet now, staring intensely at the mature, poised, very well spoken child before him, Loki felt a tendril of compassion ignite in his hollow heart.

"You are very well kept for a servant," Loki found himself complimenting. And it was true. The child did not appear worn down. Her hands were not weathered with hard labor, her clothing was not in tatters, every inch of her was clean, and her eyes sparkled with youth.

Rosalie's heart skipped a beat as she watched the man's eyes trail every inch of her. His stare was calculating, but not sinister. "The King takes good care of us," Rosalie responded with a small blush as the man continued to probe for a flaw in her appearance.

At this statement, Loki tensed and sharply darted his gaze away from the child, chuckling darkly in disgust. "Doesn't surprise me in the slightest," he growled lowly.

Most would dismiss the sardonic comment, but not the perceptive princess. "What do you know of King Thor?"

The sorcerer flinched at the reigning King's name, and then stared off into space. With his arms crossed over his chest, the sorcerer ran his pale fingers lightly over the crevices of his thin mouth. His eyes glazed over as he fell into a reflective silence. Rosalie watched curiously as he physically appeared to detach himself from his surroundings. His mind was no longer in the present, his thoughts drifting far away to intangible memories.

"Absolutely nothing," he finally rasped. Unnervingly, the sorcerer returned his focus to Rosalie with an emotionless, inscrutable look. The young girl, _Rosalie_ , was observing him with detailed attention. As he watched her analyze him, he couldn't help but see a younger version of himself in this girl. He recalled having a knack for magic at a young age, but never to the extent of the young child before him. Loki had not fully mastered a cloaking enchantment until well into the later years of adolescence. Though he would never admit such a thing out loud, the child was a prodigy. Her knowledge, strength and confidence would serve her well if she continued down the path of magic. If Loki were not in such a compromising position, he would likely agree to becoming her mentor. Under his instruction, Rosalie had potential to become a force to be reckoned with by the time she came of age.

Meanwhile, Rosalie did not rightly believe the sorcerer's claim. If Rosalie didn't know any better, it seemed as though the sorcerer knew her father. In what capacity, the young princess was unsure. Yet, there had to be a reason for the sorcerer's forced detachment. In this moment, Rosalie decided that regardless of whether or not the sorcerer wanted her company, she would continue to visit. There lied an opportunity to be passed along great knowledge, but more importantly, the man was rather enjoyable to be around. He challenged Rosalie's intellect. This was an area the princess knew she had to improve if she wanted to master all the ways of sorcery. That aside, Rosalie also found the sorcerer fascinating and mysterious. In the minimal time she had spent with him, the sorcerer seemed to be a very intelligent and deep man. Despite this, Rosalie sensed that he was also very damaged. The façade he created with the words that rolled eloquently off his silver tongue just barely masked the misery Rosalie was sure he felt day in and day out. How did the young princess know this? Despite being surrounded by loving parents and many within the kingdom that adored her, Rosalie knew that she was different. She had a powerful secret that she could never reveal to those she held dear. The sorcerer was the only person she could openly speak with about her magical abilities.

"So..." Rosalie waited until she had the sorcerer's undivided attention before continuing. "May I come to visit you?"

Loki watched Rosalie fidget apprehensively with the hem of her nightgown sleeve as she patiently waited for him to answer. Though he loathed to admit it, he found the young girl rather intriguing. In spite of himself, Loki sighed. "If that is what you wish."

"Truly?" the young princess exclaimed. Loki's gaze softened at Rosalie's evident delight.

"As you said earlier, there's nothing I can do to stop you," he spoke lightheartedly.

Rosalie's smile was contagious, and Loki was powerless to stop a small grin from pulling at the corners of his mouth at the young girl's joy. As Rosalie left, promising to return, Loki felt a flicker of emptiness as he watched the girl retreat. The absence of her presence was surprisingly overwhelming. This foreign feeling stunned him. It didn't take Loki long to admit that he was lonely. Not only had Rosalie expressed genuine interest in him, but she also wanted to continue to see him. As odd as it sounded, Loki was grateful for the child's unexpected appearance.

 _You must have fallen quite a ways to desire a child's company._ Though the thought resonated with him, Loki quickly dismissed it.

The inquisitive child's smile engrained in his memory, the sorcerer began to fall into a peaceful slumber, silently wondering when he would see the young servant Rosalie again.


	4. Chapter 4: Take the Pain Away

_Author's Note: In the aftermath of Infinity War, I hope that this provides a bit of comfort to even just a few members of the fandom. Thank you for dropping by!_

 _...Take the Pain Away..._

It was only the very next night when Rosalie decided to make the trek to visit the sorcerer again. Though she had been exhausted upon returning to the palace, she had a difficult time containing her excitement throughout the following day. She couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering to the captivating, imprisoned man. Rosalie was intrigued by him. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, the way he stared, the secrets he held...Nothing could stop her from visiting the sorcerer. Not even her loving parents.

The young princess knew that her mother and father would not take kindly to news of their daughter's discrete expeditions. Luckily, Rosalie's first attempt sneaking out of the palace had gone very smoothly. It encouraged her to learn that her mother and father had not the slightest suspicions when she encountered them the following day. As always, she shared breakfast with them in the morning, had her lessons with her mother, and even went to the stables with her father. Though they noticed that she appeared slightly more worn than usual, Rosalie was able to dismiss it as a restless night of sleep. As she flippantly blamed the lack of sleep on nightmares, she mentally noted that she would need to make a conscious effort to sneak in naps throughout the days following her secret endeavors as to not arouse her parents' suspicions. And though she would love to see the sorcerer every day, Rosalie would need to start spacing out her visits. She simply could not sustain continuous, nightly travels with little sleep. Until she could master the ways of teleportation, which based on her current progress appeared a long ways off, Rosalie would need to be discrete, cautious and strategic when planning her visits.

But not tonight. Rosalie would worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, she needed to see the sorcerer.

The day went by painfully slow. Each hour that passed seemed to drag significantly more than the last. Princess Rosalie found that not even the library helped her pass the time. When dusk finally arrived, Rosalie surged with excitement. Almost as soon as she was tucked in for the night, Rosalie cast her illusions and set out for the sorcerer's prison.

It didn't take her nearly as long to locate him the second time around. As she descended into the dark corridor, she didn't even bother cloaking herself in an enchantment as she had the previous night. When she reached the sorcerer's cell, she found him lounging on his cot, lost in thought. Once again, Rosalie paused, taken aback by the subdued power that radiated from the sorcerer. She felt a small grin tug at the corners of her mouth as the sorcerer sat up and acknowledged her presence.

"Back so soon?" he questioned with a raised brow. Rosalie's arrival appeared to surprise him.

"Yes," Rosalie answered simply, approaching the cell until she stood just a few paces shy of the magical barrier.

"After one night? My, I must have made quite an impression," Loki teased dryly. Despite his humorless, sarcastic tone, Rosalie giggled at the man's cheek.

"You did," she informed sweetly. The sorcerer regarded the young girl curiously as he approached the barrier of his cell. Slowly, his eyes never leaving Rosalie's, he sat upon the ground. Without hesitation, Rosalie followed his lead. Though the pair were separated by a transparent barrier, to Rosalie, it felt as though they could not be any closer.

Loki's eyes continued to search hers, probing and speculative. He still did not rightly believe that this small child genuinely wanted his company. Yet, Rosalie did not strike him as a liar. She appeared too genuine and _good_.

"If you were smart, you would leave and never return," Loki mused blithely. He paused as he studied Rosalie curiously. "Why _have_ you returned?"

Rosalie scowled at the sorcerer as if the question puzzled her. "I told you I would _."_ With a quick breath _,_ theyoung princess interjected before the sorcerer could meet her explanation with a skeptical retort. "I _wanted_ to return _._ "

The sorcerer stifled a bark of dry laughter. "You wanted to return to see a man that most people fear?" His eyes cut through Rosalie with an intensity that made her squirm. "I am dangerous, child. There's a reason that I am bound to this cell. I am capable of terrible things. I've done things that you can't even imagine. I can manipulate others to do just as I please. I can make the strongest of warriors weak at the knees with a mere flick of my wrist," Loki demonstrated, manifesting a stream of dark, pronged magic that intertwined with his fingertips. "I create illusions that drive the strongest willed men to insanity. I torture and destroy those that stand in my way," he continued, gazing upon the magic with a look of yearning. "I am capable of great darkness." The sorcerer clenched his fist, and the magic disappeared. "But you knew that coming here, didn't you?" he inquired, returning his attention to the child before him.

"And so begs the question," the sorcerer leered with a tight grin. "Why are you here? What do you desire?"

Rosalie shivered, finding the sorcerer's cutting tongue quite unnerving. She diverted her gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. While the sorcerer's words made her uncomfortable, she rather enjoyed the sensation. As the princess of Asgard, Rosalie had grown accustomed to constant adoration. All within the kingdom doted upon her. Not one had ever addressed her with such truth. Those Rosalie encountered, those she befriended, often shrouded bitter truths from her, preserving her youthful innocence. The sorcerer made no such attempts. He spoke to her not as a naive, young girl, but as an equal. Rosalie found it refreshing.

 _What do you desire?_

The question echoed resoundingly in Rosalie's ears. Yet, it only took her a mere moment to find an answer.

"Your wisdom," Rosalie met the sorcerer's eyes with a maturity beyond her years reflecting in the depths of her crystal blue gaze.

This answer stunned Loki into a thoughtful silence. Folding his hands together, he rested his elbows upon his knees while he studied Rosalie. "Do you long for power?" he pressed.

Rosalie shook her head almost instantly. "I long for _understanding,_ "shecorrected _,_ wrapping her cloak tightly around her shoulders.

"You are young," the sorcerer stated with a small shrug, vainly attempting to ignore an unusual feeling that washed over him. His piercing gaze searched for any sign of deception that contradicted the child's answer. "With time, you shall acquire understanding."

"Yes, but..." the young princess pressed her lips together as she searched for the right words to express her thoughts. Shutting her eyes tightly, as if summoning a surge of courage, Rosalie allowed herself to speak freely. "No one knows of my abilities. You're the only one that can provide me with answers. Magic is frowned upon in Asgard. Though I can't be quite sure, I have a feeling that is largely your fault. Magic is resented. No one speaks of it, let alone uses it. And..." she trailed off, feeling resentment building deep within her soul. Rosalie loved this realm. She loved her home. Yet, she could not help but feel _isolated_. _Different_. She could never truly be transparent. Rosalie feared revealing her secret, for she would likely be met with suspicion. As the daughter of Thor and Jane, wielding magic might bring others to question the King and Queen's reign. Rosalie could not bear to bring that degree of public disdain to her parents' image.

"I'm sorry," Rosalie stopped herself abruptly, flashing the sorcerer an apologetic grin. "I should not have spoken so freely."

"Never apologize for expressing how you feel," Loki disagreed. His assurance even surprised himself. "You do not have to filter yourself here."

Gradually, the tension Rosalie held in her shoulders subsided. The weight of the sorcerer's words had a calming effect on her. It appeared that the man spoke from experience. "Thank you," she whispered with gratitude.

Loki was not quite sure why he responded to this child with such conviction. He found her endearing, yes, but for what reason, the fallen prince could not quite determine. Perhaps he had endured isolation for so long that he would respond this attentively to anyone that entered his prison. Though, he definitely would not react warmly to his oaf of a brother or any of his cohorts if they happened to waltz into the room.

"You're shivering," Loki acknowledged, burying away any thoughts of the reigning king.

Rosalie looked down at herself to find that she was indeed trembling from the cold. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her small body as she tried in vain to suppress her shivers. Even wearing a heavy cloak could not keep out the bitter draft.

"I'm fine," she dismissed, only for her body to shudder in protest.

"If I could help I would," the sorcerer said, staring at the gold veined barrier disdainfully. And he meant it. If not for the magically encoded cell he found himself in, he would offer the child one of his few cloaks or blankets. He had grown used to the dreary cold. He had come to accept the permanent chill that settled into his skin like a thin layer of ice. Perhaps, given his true parentage, Loki did not feel the full effects of the climate. As the sorcerer watched Rosalie struggle to remain warm, an idea occurred to him.

"Have you ever used magic to regulate your body temperature?" he inquired.

The young girl frowned, her head tilting slightly to one side. "I've never thought to do that," she admitted.

"How do you normally summon your magic?" Loki asked shifting closer to the cell's barrier. Logic commanded him to cease teaching the girl, for it was the sole reason she had sought him out to begin with. Yet, the dark remnants of his heart felt sympathy for the inquisitive child. Despite her foolishness for seeking him out, Loki did not wish to see the young servant suffer.

"My magic responds to my will," Rosalie explained, a light shining in her eyes as she began to realize that the sorcerer was preparing to teach her a new spell. "I usually think about what I want to accomplish, and it just happens," the child shrugged as if her abilities were nothing worthy of praise.

"Visualization," Loki mused in awe. The fallen prince could recall spending hours upon hours as a child, attempting to perform a simple spell without the use of words. His mother had explained to him that in order to successfully perform a silent incantation, he must visualize the end result, and feel without any doubt that he would accomplish his goal. Even under his mother's instruction, it had taken him years to master the process. His mother had lauded his performance, claiming him to be a remarkably quick study. If what this child claimed carried weight, then she was exceptionally developed as a sorceress.

"Close your eyes, Rosalie," Loki instructed, shaking away his muted astonishment.

Rosalie complied without question, smiling slightly as she heard her name roll off the man's tongue for the first time. She quite liked the way the sorcerer said her name. In a way, his voice reminded her of her father... Clearing her mind of thought, Rosalie waited patiently for the sorcerer to give her further instruction.

"Now, I want you to imagine a flaming fire, or the scorching sun. Use the image that appeals to you the most."

Rosalie instantly broke her concentration and opened her eyes. "I don't want to burn alive!" she exclaimed indignantly, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

"You won't," the sorcerer responded calmly, adopting the demeanor that his mother once used during his lessons. "Trust yourself. Trust your instincts. You won't harm yourself." If the child had not proven herself so adept to magic, Loki would not feel so confident. Given the circumstances and the level of skill Rosalie possessed, he was almost certain this method would work.

His words alleviated the young princess's skepticism. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes once again, and allowed the sorcerer's deep, soothing voice to guide her actions.

"Dispel your thoughts of any negativity. Focus on your goal," the sorcerer directed. He observed the young servant until he could sense a change in her demeanor. She was calm, her golden brown curls framing her serene features. _Good_ , Loki nodded to himself. Rosalie had an impressive control over her emotional state. "Return to the sun or the fire. Tell me, which do you see?"

"A fire," Rosalie answered softly.

"Describe it to me," Loki instructed, finding himself confounded by the child's chosen image. He assumed that the Sun would appeal more to the young servant. Then again, nothing the child said should have surprised him. Nothing about her was ordinary.

The young girl pursued her lips, concentrating on every detail of the image reigning her thoughts before answering. "It's a perfect balance of large and small, like a bonfire," she explained. "The center of the flames are bright, quite like gold. The tips are crimson, touching the air, creating waves of heat. It isn't a raging fire, but it's still powerful. Meek, but commanding all the same."

Loki hummed his approval. Though the child's description was brief, it carried resounding clarity. Had the child been under his instruction, the sorcerer would require greater detail, but for the purpose of this spell, it would do. "Hold on to that image," Loki instructed. "Familiarize yourself with the tendencies of the flames." The sorcerer paused, ensuring that the young servant allotted herself time to become acquainted with the image she forged in her mind. "When you are ready, allow your senses to embrace the warmth of the fire. Breathe deeply and feel the heat upon your skin, melting the chill away. Visualize yourself at a comfortable temperature. Starting from your core, slowly expanding outward."

The former prince ceased giving any more instruction, and allowed Rosalie to attempt the spell in silence. She gave no indication of her progress. Her face remained impassive, calm and relaxed. Although she appeared in control, Loki recognized the difficulty in a spell such as this. For the inexperienced, this spell could have disastrous effects if not performed properly.

"Pace yourself," he advised gently. "Do not grow frustrated. Persist. It might take a few—" Rosalie interrupted with a contented sigh, opening her eyes with a triumphant grin. Compared to mere moments before, the child had adopted a rosier complexion. "—moments..." he finished softly with a pensive stare.

 _Remarkable._

"That's much better," Rosalie grinned, unfazed by her success. "Will I have to keep redoing the spell?"

"Not necessarily," the sorcerer answered with a blank stare. "It all depends on the strength of your intent. If your intention resonated clearly, you will only have to perform the visualization every few hours."

Rosalie nodded slowly, drinking in the sorcerer's knowledge with satisfaction. "Thank you," she said with sincere gratitude. Instead of acknowledging the appreciation, the sorcerer continued to study the child with an inscrutable expression.

"That was a very advanced, dangerous spell," the fallen prince remarked with a narrowed gaze, still quite stunned by the ease in which the child had performed the spell.

"Dangerous?!" the young girl barked in alarm. "You told me I would be safe!" she accused, her face ashen at the thought of being lied to.

"I said no such thing," Loki responded calmly, meeting Rosalie's incredulous stare with an absence of strain. "I merely said that you would not harm yourself."

"How did you know for sure?" Rosalie asked, her eyes narrowed curiously, her head inclined towards the man she had yet to truly understand.

"I didn't," the sorcerer admitted unapologetically with an indifferent shrug. "I assumed that, given your abilities and what you have demonstrated in my presence, you would succeed."

"And if I had not?" the young princess countered indignantly.

"You would be in a great deal of pain right now," Loki answered truthfully. A weighted silence transpired between the pair. Though Rosalie still valued the dark sorcerer's honesty, she could not quite understand his disregard for her safety, especially as a child. Yet, she also found it rather encouraging that he had believed her abilities advanced enough to master a spell of such difficulty. "Are you sure you have never been given instruction before?" the sorcerer questioned in a serious tone, drawing the young princess out of her thoughts.

"I have not," Rosalie responded truthfully.

"Then how have you learned the craft thus far?"

"The royal library," the young princess admitted.

"Surely the texts are forbidden," Loki frowned, recalling the young servant's reveal that magic was resented in Asgard.

"They are," the young princess confirmed. "I sneak into the restricted section to learn."

 _"_ I see," the sorcerer mused, running his fingertips over his thin, pale lips in contemplation. "And how old are you, Rosalie?"

"Eight and a half." The young child recognized her mistake as soon as she spoke.

"What?" Loki answered in a sharp, clipped tone.

Rosalie struggled for the right words to respond. How could she have been so careless? Children in Asgard were decades and even hundreds of years old. She was the rare exception. The Midguardian blood that ran through her veins played a key role in her growth. Truthfully, the medics and healers in Asgard had yet to determine her development process. It was likely that she would not live a full length lifespan like that of a demi-god. Her growth rate resembled that of a mortal child. Yet, her intellect far surpassed that of the average Asgardian child. In this way, she was exceptional. No one doubted her cognitive abilities to comprehend and respond with wisdom beyond her years. Her intelligence left many at a loss. Rosalie credited her intellect to her education and schooling, but even she could not explain how she acquired such high levels of reasoning in less than a decade of studies. Though she had never admitted such a thing aloud, the young princess often wondered if her magical abilities played a part in supplying her with such extensive knowledge.

"I am part mortal," Rosalie found herself admitting, her wintry, blue gaze meeting that of the sorcerer's intense emerald stare.

Loki visibly recoiled at the admission. _That's not possible. "_ If you are part mortal, it's impossible for you wield magic at all."

"And yet, here I am," Rosalie shrugged meekly, taking a sudden interest in the hem of her cloak. The sorcerer's speculative, direct tone and sharp eyes unnerved her. She was not scared by any means, but she was also not accustomed to such scrutiny.

"How is it that you came to be a servant of the Asgardian Palace?" Loki continued accusingly.

Rosalie kept a blank stare in place as she mentally fumbled for an answer. She foolishly had not planned for this conversation. For a brief moment, she considered relinquishing her tale and instead revealing the truth. Then, miraculously, she found her silver tongue, and fabricated a lie with the ease of a trickster.

"No one quite knows how I came to be here at all," the young princess said softly. "I was abandoned at an orphanage shortly after birth. The headmistress of the orphanage offered me to the House of Odin to pay off a debt. I have been a servant ever since."

The child watched the sorcerer keenly as she told her tale, purposely evading any details of her parentage. She felt horrid for lying to the sorcerer, but she feared his response to learning that she was a princess of Asgard. She feared that he would refuse to see her, for it was royalty that had put him here to begin with, or so Rosalie had gathered. Gauging the sorcerer's reaction, she must have given a convincing performance. His hardened features softened subtly, and a faint sigh escaped his nose.

 _"_ I see," Loki supplied shortly, suddenly feeling terrible for demanding an explanation. He, of all people, could relate to the isolation and woes of the young girl's tale. "If it's any consolation, my origins are just as bleak." Loki could not understand why he felt compelled to comfort the child. Though he was growing rather fond of her company, nothing justified revealing sentiments regarding his own parentage to an almost complete stranger.

"I guess that makes us different," Rosalie attempted to lighten the dismal tone that had transpired between them.

 _An understatement,_ Loki thought bitterly to himself. He did not offer any further indication of his thoughts.

"Do you think poorly of me now?" Rosalie asked with a hint of fear laced in her tone.

The sorcerer frowned at the question. Truthfully, there was a time when the answer would be yes. The fallen prince had once thought himself above mortals. Technically, he still did. However, something about this peculiar child did not provoke thoughts of superiority, even with the knowledge that she was half mortal.

"No," Loki answered seriously. It was a simple answer, but the young princess detected resounding assurance rooted in the confident way it was spoken.

The young girl nodded with a small, grateful grin.

"I'm not quite sure what you did to deserve this fate," she mused, quietly eying the gold veined cell with pity, "but I want you to know that I don't think poorly of you either." Rosalie could not be sure if these words resonated with the sorcerer, but she suspected that they at least caught his attention.

Loki's eyes glimmered with a touch of appreciation. He quickly blinked away the sentiment, and discretely dismissed the young girl's words with a short bark of laughter. "A grave misjudgment of character, I assure you."

"No, I don't think so," the young princess remarked matter of factly. Though Rosalie lived a rather sheltered life, she took pride in her ability to read people. For a young child, she was remarkably perceptive, a quality she inherited from her mother. Her studies, both magically and nonmagically inclined, strengthened her cognition and keen perception. The sorcerer was indeed tainted by darkness, his soul possibly scourged by a series of sinister deeds he once committed. Yet, there was something rather meek within the sorcerer. A softness hidden by self depreciation and impertinent wit.

The Sorcerer was unlike anyone Rosalie had ever met. Complex, mysterious, attentive and strangely considerate. Staring into the sorcerer's eyes, she was certain he thought the same of her.

In truth, the Sorcerer was torn, and that was putting it mildly. He was, undoubtedly, very drawn to Rosalie. He could not recall ever developing this strong an affinity for another, and he barely knew the child! Rosalie's wit, intellect, empathy and kindness not only surpassed that of the average child, but also of any Asgardian adult Loki had ever encountered. This assessment of character did not even take her unparalleled magical abilities into consideration. Loki was not one to believe in fate or destiny. Yet, somehow, he could not shake the feeling that this is exactly what was taking place. It was of no coincidence that a mere child had discovered his prison. Many had tried before, but none had succeeded. How was it that a young girl, only _eight_ years of age, had found him, on her first attempt nonetheless? Moreover, how was it that her endearing charm appealed to the dark man in such a way that rendered him speechless? The God of Mischief and Lies, known for his eloquent, quick, piercing tongue and bracing shrewdness, left bemused? What an absurd notion. Perhaps the explanation was simple. Perhaps it was not so much that the child was extraordinary, but rather that Loki craved human interaction.

Meaningless conversation.

The sound of another person's voice.

Stimulation of the brain.

A break in the mind numbing monotony of his day to day existence.

It startled Loki to find just how much he craved companionship. He never would have considered himself so weak to succumb to the desire to listen to and be heard by another. Yet, even as the answer to his yearnings stood before him, regarding him with something other than disdain and scorn, Loki could not bring himself to accept the gift presented to him. He would taint her with darkness if she continued to visit him. Based on their interactions, it appeared that she could actually _see_ him. Not one thing he said or did would go unnoticed in her presence. The thought of being stripped bare, to no longer be seen purely as a man of darkness and chaos, was almost too much to bear. It changed his identity, something he had accepted and made peace with long ago. Or so he thought.

"Rosalie," the sorcerer spoke slowly, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "Though I enjoy your company, I think it wise for you to return to the castle. I know that servants must rise before the break of dawn. You should get your rest."

Rosalie regarded the sorcerer kindly, her features softening as she nodded calmly. "I suppose you're right," she agreed. She stood, dusting off the front of her cloak with her fingertips. She felt the sorcerer's gaze lingering upon her. Pursing her lips, she met his eyes once more, smiling understandingly as golden brown ringlets framed her round cheeks. "Next time, just tell me you'd like to be alone. Like you said earlier, you do not have to filter yourself here. Not with me."

Rosalie smirked at the look of paled bewilderment strewn upon the sorcerer's face, and bid her leave with a respectful bow of the head. As she made her way down the dark corridor to exit the chamber, she chuckled amusedly to herself. She was going to enjoy befriending this man. Regardless of if he desired her company or not, Rosalie would be there. Camaraderie was a basic human necessity, and no one needed it more than the dark, peculiar sorcerer.


End file.
